The Dressing Room
by Ellique
Summary: Al leaves Rachel in his library to study and leaves his coat behind... - **Spoilers from Black Magic Sanction** - Al/Rache
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: THE WONDERFUL WORLD OF THE HOLLOWS AND ALL CHARACTERS THEREIN ARE OWNED BY THE LOVELY KIM HARRISON.

~ The Dressing Room ~

Things had been going really well between us since the coven temporarily revoked my shunning and was no longer posing a real threat to my life. Al was not pleased when I had told him what happened at Fountain Square, and afterwards at FIB headquarters, but he was not at the point of insisting he had won our bet and forcing me to move in with him. Yet. I had no doubt, though, that if I was unable to get the coven permanently off my ass at the witches' convention this summer, Al would waste no time helping me pack my bags and choose furnishings and paint color for the room I'm sure he had already reserved for me. Lucky me.

Today was one of our usual Saturdays where we played "teacher" and "student" and Al had already pulled a few books for me to read when I arrived and got settled in. He even set me up at a table in his library and had a warm fire burning in the fireplace when he jumped me through the lines and into his house. Al led me to a carved wooden table in the center of the room, away from the fireplace. The table was flanked on both sides by classic club lounge chairs with green leather upholstery, brass buttons and tufting on the inside of the arms.

Al pulled out one of the chairs and gestured, with one gloved hand. "Sit down, my itchy witch. We have a great deal of work to do today," he said in a rather business-like fashion and with his usual cultured British accent.

I walked around to the front of the chair and as I started to sit down, Al leaned into me, placing his hands on both arms of the chair, one arm on either side of me, and breathed in the scent of my hair as he pushed the chair in towards the table. Surprisingly, I didn't even get a chill down my spine, something I usually experienced when Al did one thing or another to elicit a response from me. My demon really loved making me squirm.

"Knock it off, Al," I sighed, rather annoyed. I rolled my eyes and smirked as I pushed my unruly hair behind my ear and looked up at him. "We're here to work, remember?"

Al chuckled to himself and winked at me. "Indeed we are, my little witch."

Al watched me intently as I settled myself into the chair. I have to admit. It was probably the most comfortable chair I'd ever sat in in my entire life. And probably the most expensive. It's something Trent would have in his study. Hell, I'm sure Trent had an entire fleet of chairs of this quality, but it was a real treat for _me _to be able to sit in something so luxurious.

"Right!" Al exclaimed enthusiastically. "Now. I've pulled a few of the.. umm.. safer.. texts and have tabbed the sections you will be reading. I've decided it's time for you to read up on the fundamentals of soul-stealing and aura enhancement. We certainly cannot have another Krathion incident, can we, Rachel? Mmmm?"

Curling my lip, I frowned and looked up to find the chiseled face of an aristocratic Englishman staring down at me, red, goat-slitted eyes hiding a glint of irritation as we both recalled the debacle that ensued the last time we had messed with a spell involving an aura. Problem was, the aura wasn't an aura. It was a soul. And it nearly pushed me out of my own body to claim it for itself.

"Are you going to keep reminding me of all my mistakes?" I asked.

"Yes," he said forcefully. "Now. I must run out to check on a few business endeavors. Be sure to take copious notes and we shall discuss soul capture when I return. Won't be gone for more than a tick."

Ever since Al took back his summoning name he had been quite busy with what we agreed to call his "business endeavors." In my time with Al, I learned the market for demon familiars was quite a lucrative one, as most demons were always looking to upgrade to a familiar with more skill. A well-trained familiar was to a demon what an over-powered, over-priced sports car was to a human businessman. Well. Not really. Both were expensive toys. Only demons knew how to use theirs. And use them they did, until a familiar went virtually insane from the amount of power a demon forced the person to hold to twist curses and bend the laws of nature. Demon society was not for the faint of heart, and the less I thought about it the better I was able to sleep. Suffice it to say that thank God I had avoided becoming anyone's familiar. I didn't approve of the way Al made his living, but I had to admit the man lived well. Still, I wasn't thrilled that Al was probably going to pop out to meet with a demon or two who wanted Al to procure them fresh meat.

Al flicked his wrist and a pair of shaded glasses appeared. He deftly perched them atop his nose and then bent down to meet me at eye level, glaring at me over the frames. "Until I return… Don't. Touch. ANYthing. Do you understand me, Rachel?" He licked his lips and grinned evilly before adding, "If your clumsy, itchy witchy self gets into any trouble while I'm out, I will solve your curiosity of what my bedroom looks like. And I guarantee I will enjoy it much more than you will."

While I could have played it off and responded with something witty and sarcastic, the image of Al in his scary-ass demon god form flashed before my eyes and sent a shiver down my spine. Instead, I met his eyes and said, "Understood."

Al nodded in satisfaction and a sheet of ever-after rose up to envelope him. With a pop in the displacement of energy through the ley lines, he was gone.

I reached down to find a notebook and a few pens, the charms on my bracelet clattering against themselves as I sifted through the bag I had brought with me. If I were Ivy, everything in my bag would be color-coded, labeled and readily identifiable. As it was, it took me a few minutes of rummaging until I found what I was looking for. With a deep sigh, I stretched my neck and settled into the chair, the plush leather squeaking a bit under my butt as I found a comfortable position and started in on the first of the demon texts Al had left for me.

The books were all written in Latin, of course, and my mastery of the language was far from complete. I liked to think myself reasonably competent, but Al still winced more than occasionally when my syntax and pronunciation missed the mark. Okay, he yelled. But "wince" just sounds so much better. And the yelling happened far more often that I'd like to admit. So I found that today, as usual, my progress through the texts was slow and, at times, painful. I was taking notes as I made my way through several incantations and spells that seemed of particular importance. I didn't have too much to complain about. Al was allowing me use of his exquisite library. The smell of old, leather-bound books almost out-competed the stink of burnt amber and a rather strange thought came over me that Al's home felt, in a way, like my home. And hey - I was using a pen and paper to take my notes. It beat the hell out of having to write on stiff parchment using my own blood.

After what felt like half a day but that must have been only a couple of hours, my eyes felt dry and achy and I leaned my head back, feeling the vertebrae of my neck popping back into place. I stretched my arms up overhead in an attempt to release the tension from my shoulders. As I was rolling my neck from side to side I glanced towards the fireplace. Huh. Al had left his overcoat behind, draped casually over one of the wing chairs flanking the hearth.

I pushed my chair back and stood up, curiosity and the need to stretch my legs bringing me out of my chair and towards the one holding Al's coat. Without a second thought, I reached out and touched the soft material of the frock I had come to identify with Al. It was typical of those worn by affluent gentlemen in 18th century England. This wasn't the 18th century. And Al wasn't much of a gentleman. But nevertheless the coat fit his personality to a 't'. The garment was magnificent - single-breasted, with a broad, flat collar, waist pockets, and felt-covered buttons running down the chest and along the sleeves. The back of the coat had elegant tails that swished dramatically when Al turned on his heels.

Sure, I could have walked around for a bit, stretched my legs, and gone back to my reading. But I sort of missed him not being here with me right now, and something in me wanted to try on his coat. I'm sure this fell outside the scope of the whole "don't touch anything" mandate Al gave me before he left. After all, it's not as if I was leaving the library and touring Al's house unattended. I wouldn't wander around Al's house alone even if I knew how. And it's not as if I was touching anything else in the room. I certainly wasn't going to go looking through any of the other books on the shelves, especially after I made that mistake a couple weeks ago and nearly had the flesh burned off my hands. Al kept some nasty books in here.

I reached out and took the coat into my hands, and slowly threaded my arms through the sleeves. His stature being much larger than my own, the coat was quite large on my frame, and instead of trying to button it I simply wrapped it around my body like a robe, swathing myself in the heavy material. Al's scent billowed up in a waft of air when I pulled the coat around me. I grabbed the collar of the coat and brought it up to my nose. Closing my eyes, I inhaled deeply. Al's scent was intoxicating. Funny that I didn't even smell any of the characteristic burnt amber that was redolent of the ever-after. Instead, the scent was uniquely Al and rather exotic - a musky, decidedly male smell, with undertones of sandalwood and bergamot. The subtle tang of bergamot reminding me of the tea Al liked to drink while we spent long hours in his kitchen, stirring spells and twisting curses over the fire pit.

I looked up and saw my reflection in the shiny hematite sculpture Al had decorating the mantle. The sculpture was a pair of rather large hands from wrists to fingertips and arranged so the palms were facing out towards the room, the pinkies of each hand touching. Each hand was posed in a mudra - the thumb and forefinger of each joined to form a zero, with the rest of the fingers gracefully extended. I had noticed this sculpture once before when I sat here with Al and he made me dinner. I still found it strange Al would collect such a peaceful piece, reminiscent of a Hindu or Buddhist work of art, though I recalled Ceri once telling me that Al had at one time been particularly fond of Asian culture. It was either that, or maybe those hands used to belong to somebody and Al kept them as souvenirs. Ick.

Allowing my eyes to gaze into the shiny surface of the sculpture, I smiled. I looked elegant. And radiant. And even with the red tinge of ever-after transmuting the natural coloring of everything this side of the lines, I could tell the sage green of Al's coat complemented my coloring perfectly. The material felt supple against my skin, the silk lining caressing my arms and the velvet collar softly stroking my cheek.

It was then that I felt the subtle change in air pressure and my breath caught as a large, warm, hand clenched my left shoulder. I spun around quickly to find myself face to face with Al.

Al wasn't smiling but he wasn't angry either. Instead he wore a look of desire and lust, and his eyes scanned the entire length of my body before he reached up with one hand and ran his fingers underneath my chin, his other hand still firmly grasping my shoulder. With eyebrows raised and red eyes staring into mine, he said softly, "And what, Rachel, love, are you doing wearing my coat?"

… to be continued…


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: THE WONDERFUL WORLD OF THE HOLLOWS AND ALL CHARACTERS THEREIN ARE OWNED BY THE LOVELY KIM HARRISON.

~ The Dressing Room ~

CHAPTER 2

"Rachel?" he said more forcefully. "You're wearing my clothes, why?" he said with a curious lilt to his voice, and I could have sworn I felt him shaking.

"I don't know. I just… saw you left your coat on the chair and it looked so soft. The velvet. I just… wanted to touch… it…" I replied, my eyes focused on his mouth.

What the hell was I saying? I sounded like an awkward teenage girl flirting with her first crush. My mind felt fuzzy. I was trying like hell to keep it together, but I felt like I was in a dreamstate, completely enraptured by whatever was transpiring between Al and myself. I blinked my eyes a few times in an effort to clear away the fog. What the Turn was I doing?

"You wanted to touch it," his mellifluous voice a touchless caress, gently stroking my ears, moving down my neck, and electrifying every synapse as it slowly worked its way down my spine like the warm, tender fingers of a lover.

I nodded. "Uh huh." My eyes were still focused on his lips, his eyes focused on mine. I felt my pulse slow to a rhythm steady and strong and felt myself slipping into a trance. Into Al's trance.

I blinked again and tried to shake my head gently in an attempt to formulate a coherent thought. "Al, what the _hell_ are you doing to me?" My accusation, much to my disappointment, lacking the weight of any anger. How the hell could I express anger while talking like a porn star and floating on a cloud?

Al brought his gaze away from my lips, with what looked like a considerable amount of effort. He turned his head slightly and shifted his focus to my shoulder and I felt him shift his grip as he brought his hand to rest on my upper arm, gently stroking the fabric of the coat. His coat. The one I was wearing. He blinked twice and then said in a soft monotone, "You smell like me."

This was so weird. Standing here with Al reminded me of my early days living with Ivy, she and I struggling to circumvent her natural instincts and find a way to live together platonically without me pushing her buttons every five minutes. It took a good long while til we found what worked and we could never, _ever _share clothes without risking her vamping out and wanting to sample me like tasty vampire treat.

Could this be similar? Were Al and I vamping out, our scents mixing together to stir something sensually visceral? Was this a demon pheromone thing? Do demons even _have_ pheromones? God, I didn't know. And if Al knew he wasn't telling. This, though, was different. This was affecting _me_ as much as it was Al. Not once in my interaction with Ivy or Kisten, or even Piscary, had it felt like this, not even when someone was playing upon my scar - the scar that Al had given me in our first encounter. What I felt now was coming from someplace at the very core of my being. It felt like something ancient, and primal, and _really_ good. It was a tingling in my belly and a warmth that spread to parts below.

"Al?"

"Yes, Rachel?"

"I feel strange," I confessed, struggling to maintain my composure.

"Strange," his voice still a focused monotone.

"Strange," I said through the fog. "I was fine when you weren't here. But now I can hardly speak and I can't move. What's happening, Al? I can't move away from you. I feel almost paralyzed."

Al's eyes were trained on the coat, his gaze narrowing slightly as he seemed to focus on something I couldn't see. It was a subtle gesture and one I may have missed if I hadn't been staring so intently at his face, taking in every nuance as we both fought whatever force was conspiring to overwhelm our self control.

I reached up with my right hand and touched the side of his face, running my fingers over the edge of his eyebrow. He looked at me again before his eyes fluttered shut when I touched the corner of his eyelid, tracing the fine lines that marred his otherwise ageless face. His skin was warm and smooth beneath my touch. With my palm open I stroked the side of his face, touching his cheek and moving my fingers along his jaw line until my two fingers were touching his lips, feeling their softness. _Why are his lips so soft? What am I doing_?

"Rachel, we're going to have a bit of a problem," he said with a labored breath and with more than a hint of panic in his voice, as he leaned in towards me and my fingers continued to caress his lips as they moved in time with the syllables of his words.

And no sooner had he spoken those words when the hand I had pressed to Al's face pulsed with a strong current of force like electricity - lightning coursing through my blood. The gold of my aura was suddenly a visible shell emanating from every surface of my skin. Al's own aura became visible, the same gold as my own with no signs of the imbalance accrued from a lifetime twisting curses. I felt my awareness expand and my aura gain strength as it pressed against Al's. Al's aura strengthened in response and felt heavy as it pressed against mine and I fought to maintain the separation between our energies. Without intent, I tapped a line and energy flowed into my thoughts. I quickly began spindling it as fast as I could but the tide of line energy was so strong it threatened to overflow my synapses. _No, no, no, no, no! _ Bis wasn't with me to help take the excess and I gasped, trying to break my connection with the line. This… was not good.

My hand fell from Al's face as his hand slowly dropped from my shoulder, our hands traveling down the length of each other's arms until they joined together, my small palm lying to rest on top of his much larger one. His glove suddenly gone, my pale skin contrasted with the dark, ruddiness of his. I felt Al tap a line and, in unison, we dropped our heads to where our hands had joined. Where our bodies touched, our auras flashed a brilliant, almost blinding white and began merging together.

It was an ecstasy a thousand times more pleasurable than what I had experienced blending auras with Ivy – a stimulation exponentially more powerful than what I had experienced with Pierce.

I looked up to see Al staring back at me, his expression a mixture of anxiety and arousal. I was sure it mirrored my own. I was completely enraptured and drowning in his presence as I felt the last vestiges of my free will slipping away.


	3. Chapter 3

DISCLAIMER: THE WONDERFUL WORLD OF THE HOLLOWS AND ALL CHARACTERS THEREIN ARE OWNED BY THE LOVELY KIM HARRISON.

~ The Dressing Room ~

CHAPTER 3

"_Abiungo!_" someone shouted, as a greenish-black mist of magic formed between Al and myself. A concussive force exploded between us, throwing us to opposite sides of the library.

"Owww!" I screamed, as the back of my head bounced off the bookcases lining the wall behind me. Al landed across the room from me and grunted when his head hit the wall behind him.

I closed my eyes, my ears ringing from the explosion, and leaned forward to rest my head on my knees as I tried to remember where I was and what had happened. I groaned as a strong hand grabbed my shoulder and yanked me to my feet. "Hey! Get off me! What the hell?"

"Rachel, take the coat off now!" the voice commanded, and I recognized it as belonging to Pierce.

I tried to turn to look at him but he spun me around, grabbed my shoulders, and with a violent downward tug, tore the coat off me with a force that nearly dislocated both my shoulders.

"Pierce, stop! You're hurting me! Get OFF!" I yelled, and shoved him off balance. Pierce's hip slammed into a nearby table, and one of the books slid off and fell to the floor. The book opened to a random page and a red liquid began oozing from the text.

Al glanced at the book, his face now twisted in anger, and he narrowed his eyes to glare at me and then Pierce. "Watch the books, you idiots!" he bellowed, his voice surprisingly loud in a room filled with acoustic-dampening carpeting and tapestries, as well as rows upon rows of ancient manuscripts.

I didn't even see him move. Al misted into existence next to the bleeding book and knelt down, muttering something in Latin before tracing a complicated glyph in the air above the text. He carefully slipped his gloved hands underneath the book. Closing his eyes, Al took a deep breath, and then slowly blew his breath along the inside of the spine before slamming the book shut. He turned his head to look at Pierce, and with a disapproving shake of his head he snorted in disgust and stood up, carefully placing the book back on the table.

Pierce still had Al's coat in his hands and he tossed it into the air like a chef tossing pizza dough. The coat landed on the floor a good five feet in front of us.

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked in irritation.

"Please, mistress witch. Stand back. I implore you, do not go near it!" he insisted, as he put himself in front of me to prevent me from moving forward.

Pierce's hands glowed black and the air around him grew thick and heavy. He brought both hands together and a ball of green-tinged ever after formed between them. His right hand traced what looked like ley line gestures over the ball of pulsing, green energy. "_Resolvo veneficus!__Cingi aversabilis lamia attrecto,"_ he intoned, using both hands to fling the curse at Al's coat.

The spell hit with another explosion, and black, heatless flames flared up, engulfing the green velvet. I was about to grab my leather jacket and try to snuff out the fire when suddenly the flames vanished and Al's coat looked as if nothing had happened.

The library was suddenly silent. Not even the sound of our breathing cut through the hush that had descended following whatever the hell had just happened.

Al stalked past Pierce and me and bent down gracefully to pick up his coat, holding it in one hand while using the other to brush away debris from the floor. After giving it a good solid shake, Al swung it around and shrugged into it, adjusting it around his broad shoulders. He began adjusting the lace of his shirt and fixing the lapel of the jacket so it fit just so.

Glancing up at me, his words were directed to Pierce. "Gordian Nathaniel Pierce, we shall not be requiring any more of your assistance this evening. I will be spending the rest of my time with Rachel alone," Al said in his elegant, English accent. His eyes never left me as his lips turned up into a devious smile, emphasizing the whole "alone" bit.

"I swan you're right lucky I came back when I did. That enrapture spell would have killed you both if I arrived a minute later than I did. If you had consummated…"

"That's IT! Leave us. Now." Al roared, cutting Pierce off mid-sentence.

Pierce cleared his throat and bowed his head slightly. "As you wish. But, ummm. If I might have the courtesy of a small favor before I depart. Mistress Newt has requested to borrow a pinch of blue vervain. She's run out and the local apothecary isn't due for a shipment until a fortnight from now."

Eyebrows raised, Al turned his head to look at Pierce. "I was wondering what you were doing here. You're supposed to be her problem for the next month. Not mine," Al grumbled, obviously anxious to send Pierce on his way.

Al sighed rather dramatically and finished adjusting the lace on the sleeves of his shirt. Putting his hands on his hips, he said to Pierce, "Well, I don't have my conservatory…" turning to me, he added, "…yet," as he winked and a wicked grin spread across his face, showing his blocky teeth.

I gave Al a sarcastic, closed-lip smile and said nothing. _Yeah, I know __exactly__ how you're gonna fund that conservatory. Thanks for the reminder, Al._

Al returned his gaze to Pierce and continued, "But I believe I do have some of that herb lying around."

Al popped out of the library, presumably to check his supplies in the workroom, and quickly misted back into existence holding what looked like a small incense box made of bone. There were intricate symbols carved into the lid and the sides of the box - glyphs I didn't recognize from any of my studies.

He extended the box to Pierce. "I trust she hasn't misplaced her mortar and pestle, mmm?" Al asked, rather sarcastically.

Pierce shook his head and Al added, "I expect you to bring the box back upon your return. She can't have that."

Pierce bowed his head again and replied, rather formally, "Yes, of course. Until I return, Algaliarept. Rachel," Pierce shifted his gaze to me and gave me a respectful bow of his head before he disappeared.

Al turned to me and before he could say anything I blurted, "Al, it wasn't my fault. Honest. I don't know what the hell just happened but you have to believe me." Al held a hand up to try to stop me but I continued, "I didn't touch anything. Well, other than your coat. And I didn't try any spells when you weren't here. It's not my fault!" I exclaimed. Hey, I wasn't above pleading. I really, really, _really_ didn't want Al mad at me.

Al walked towards me and as I braced myself to be backhanded for doing God only knows what I had done this time, I instead felt Al brush the hair from my face, tucking it behind my ears. It looked like he was inspecting me for damage as he spoke softly, "Rachel, I'm not angry with you."

"Oh," I said as I looked up at him and smiled. "Okay… good." I felt my shoulders relax.

Al took my arm and led me to one of the wing chairs by the fireplace.

"Have a seat, relax, and I'll make us some coffee," he said, as he turned to face the fireplace and a pitcher of water materialized from wherever Al usually kept the water pitcher.

"Coffee?" I asked, incredulously.

"Mmmm," he nodded. "Everything seems better after a cup of coffee," he said rather meditatively, giving me a bit of Al Philosophy 101as he began filling the kettle he kept next to the fireplace.

"Yeah, okay. Coffee is good. But wait a sec. I have a surprise," I replied shyly, as I bounded up out of the chair.

"A surprise?" he inquired, turning to face me, eyebrows raised.

"Mmmhmm. Just give me oneeeeeee second," I said as I scooted past him and went over to the bag I had left by the reading table in the center of the room. "I saw some terrific Kona when I was at the store with Ivy the other day. And the store had this crazy vacuum-seal thing that's supposed to keep the grounds fresh for millennia," I said, turning to him and smiling.

He was staring at me almost in disbelief and I shrugged to make it not seem like such a big deal. "I thought we could try it to see if we can come up with a brew that has a little less burnt amber to it. I even found some single serve raspberry creamers made with real cream that don't need to be refrigerated."

Al almost looked at a loss for words as a genuine smile spread across his face. "Rachel, I do believe you have delighted me."

Blushing, I said "Well, don't get too excited yet. I just figured you've already made me dinner. The least I could do is try to make you a good pot of coffee."

I walked back over to him, set the grounds and the creamers on the slate coffee table, and took the pitcher and kettle from him. Gesturing to the other wing chair, I said, "Sit. Relax. I'll make the coffee."


	4. Chapter 4

DISCLAIMER: THE WONDERFUL WORLD OF THE HOLLOWS AND ALL CHARACTERS THEREIN ARE OWNED BY THE LOVELY KIM HARRISON.

~ The Dressing Room ~

CHAPTER 4

I had put the kettle on the fire a few minutes ago and it was already half way to a full boil. Al materialized his French press – the one he always used to make his coffee – and sat it on the slate table in front of the hearth, alongside the bag of coffee and creamers I brought with me from home. Al looked at the coffee press and then at me, and cocked his head to the side, a smile beginning to form at the corner of his mouth. It was a look of sheer amusement as I'm sure he wondered silently how I was going to manage with the funny-looking contraption.

Meeting his challenge, I raised my eyebrows and smirked. "I know it will surprise you, Al, but I actually do know how to use one of those."

Al chuckled. "We'll see, my itchy witch."

He sank back into his chair and watched my movements as I opened the vacuum-sealed bag. The heady aroma of Kona filled the air between us, the pure, earthy scent of fresh ground coffee as yet untouched by the reek of burnt amber.

"Pre-ground, Rachel? Really, now? How passé," Al remarked, sarcasm dripping from his words like condensation on a glass of ice water on a hot summer afternoon.

_And I thought only elves could be snarky._

I grinned. "Oh, ye of little faith, Al. I told you this place was the best. Ivy only buys the best – hell, she can afford it. Worry not. The beans are as fresh as if we picked them off the bush and roasted them this morning, " I cajoled, and I looked up at him to see his red eyes glowing with delight.

As I looked around for something to scoop with, a tablespoon appeared in my hand. I reach into the bag and ladled two heaping tablespoons of coffee into the press, resealing the bag quickly to hopefully preserve some of the freshness, though I was certain some of the ever-after stench had already creeped its way into the grounds. Ah, well. This was still going to be a damn fine pot of coffee, regardless.

I sighed, more for effect than out of frustration, "You should be playing the role of the proud teacher, you know. The grounds are all uniform, large particles. Perfect for your coffee press. It's all very scientific. I did my research," I informed him, with perhaps a wee bit of flirtation thrown in for good measure.

Al laughed. "Oh, I have no doubt. No offense, but this little tete a tete is much more enjoyable than the coffee will be."

_Gee, I think he just paid me a compliment... kinda. Sorta. Okay, not really. But I actually am enjoying this. Here. With him. Huh._

In my enjoyment of our banter back and forth, I forgot to check the kettle so I turned to the fireplace to see the water had by now been boiling for at least a good two minutes. I bit the corner of my lip in concentration and took the kettle off the fire. Al's kettle was made of cast iron and I had almost forgotten how heavy it was. If I spilled any hot water on Al that would definitely not be a good thing. As I carefully began filling the press with water, the coffee grounds danced in the column of hot water and a nice, light froth started forming on the top of the mixture. Snapping my fingers, I searched around again. _Stir, stir, stir… need to stir… hmmm, what to stir with…_ As if he was reading my thoughts, Al cleared his throat to get my attention and when I looked he extended his hand, offering an exquisitely-painted, red chopstick as a stirring implement.

"Thank you," I said, pushing a stray strand of runaway hair back behind my ear.

I took the chopstick from Al's hand and made my way to the other side of the table. Facing the fire, I knelt down before the slate table to continue my work on the whole coffee situation. Al was to my left, his knees almost touching my side as he kept a watchful eye from his comfortable seat of observation.

"So, Al," I said, stirring the coffee slurry a few times to assist the steeping process. "Are you going to fill me in on what just happened? Or are you going to make me beg?"

Al sat in his chair with his arms clasped in front of him, playfulness in his eyes as he watched the machinations of my coffee-making. "Mmmm… now _that_ would be nice," he mused, his eyes narrowing in thought. "Phenomenal, actually," he added, humming with more than a hint of satisfaction.

"What would?" I asked, gently fitting the filter assembly to the top of the press.

There was a marked pause in the conversation and I looked over at Al to see him staring at me in a sort of sinister reverie.

His voice deep with darkness and desire, he said "Rachel Mariana Morgan, I quite like the idea of you begging at my feet."

_Yeahhhhh…_

"Not gonna happen," I vowed, and I hauled my ass up off the floor after realizing that I was, in fact, sitting at his feet. _Oh, boy…_

"Pity. But a man can dream," Al answered, sounding more determined than disappointed.

I sat down on the edge of the table instead of remaining on the floor at Al's feet, and began gently plunging the filter down through the coffee slurry. _Mmmm… this is going to be perfect!_

Two black cups with saucers appeared between us, along with two, silver teaspoons and a couple of dark red, cloth napkins.

Al had apparently decided to continue on with the more substantive issue at hand, explaining, "What we just experienced in that lovely moment of intimacy was an enrapture curse. Quite a powerful one, at that."

I held the lid of the press as I poured coffee into the two black cups. Looking between Al and the cups, I said, "I don't get it. Love charms typically aren't that powerful."

Indicating his annoyance, Al sighed and leaned forward in his chair, putting his elbows on his knees. "No, they're not, my itchy witch," he replied. "And how cute of you to continue comparing powerful demon curses with the paltry excuse for sorcery that is earth magic," he added, patronizing me.

Al watched as I stood and moved the other wing chair to the side of the table facing the fire – the side closer to him. The coffee table was quite large and I felt a bit awkward sitting so far away from him.

I sat down on the edge of the chair and said, "Look, it's the only thing I have _to_ compare it to."

Al huffed and helped himself to one of the cups of hot liquid. I reached over to grab a few raspberry creamers and put them next to Al's cup along with one of the teaspoons. I opened two creamers and added them to my cup before stirring them in and taking a sip. There was a negligible tinge of burnt amber after-taste, but all in all I was quite pleased with how this little experiment turned out. "Mmm… not bad," I commented.

Al closed his eyes as he held the cup to his mouth and savored the smell of the coffee before taking a sip himself. From the smile it brought to his face I'd say he was pleased. Or impressed. Or maybe both.

"Love charms," I said, wincing a bit as Al opened his eyes and frowned at me. "Love _curses_, sorry..." I corrected and continued, "… are notoriously unpredictable..."

A cold chill went down my spine and I took a ragged breath, "Oh my God!" I exclaimed.

I set down my cup before my hands started to shake and turned to look at a very smug Al. Raising both hands in disgust, I pointed a finger at him and shouted, "Whoaaa! Wait a minute. It was one of yours? What the hell are you trying to do, Al? Bespell me into sleeping with you?"

"Mine?" he snickered. "No, dove. I don't _do_ love charms," Al chided. "And I told you, Rachel. One night _you_ will come to _me_," he said, placing his cup back down on the table. He reached out and grabbed my wrist before I had the chance to sit back in my chair.

Though my not-so-subtle attempt to remain out of Al's reach proved unsuccessful, I did nothing to avoid his touch. Al's hands were slightly callused but that didn't detract from the enticing feel of energy flowing from his hand into mine. It was comforting and pleasurable and it surprised me to admit I was in no hurry to break the connection.

With my free hand, I set my cup back down on the table and reached up to stroke the base of my neck - a bit of a nervous habit I hadn't quite learned to break. As I continued to look at Al, my hand traveled up to rest at the corner of my mouth, my fingers cool against the warmth that had crept into my face. I looked down at my other wrist, encircled in Al's grasp. His touch was warm and tender even though he was holding my wrist firmly between his fingers, and I didn't shirk away when he brought his other hand to rest on top of mine, sandwiching my much smaller hand between his two large ones.

"Keep up that dreaming, Al…" I replied, with a total lack of conviction, my voice more sultry and breathless than I would have liked.

"Oh, Rachel, honey, it's much more than a dream," he said, as he brought my arm towards him and tilted his head down to kiss the back of my hand before turning it over and tracing the lines of my palm with one of his large fingers.

My eyes fluttered shut as I focused on the exhilarating feel of his touch. When I opened my eyes, he smiled and released my hand before reaching for his cup and saucer and taking another large swallow of coffee.

In a more authoritative tone, he explained, "You see, an enrapture curse would not have bound us like that had there not been an attraction on your part, Rachel."

I opened my mouth to contradict him, but reconsidered and decided to go with confrontation instead. "Yours too, then," I accused, not really thinking about the things I left unspoken, and where that might lead the conversation.

"Mine too, yes, itchy witch," he admitted, his voice a bit ragged and his unblinking eyes filled with yearning as their focus shifted to my lips.

In response to the shock that must have registered on my face, he chortled, "What? That surprises you? I'm a man, Rachel. And you are a very attractive woman, high maintenance and incorrigible though you may be. What should surprise you is that the enrapture curse bound _you_ as tightly as it did me," he said, grinning like the godamned Cheshire Cat.

Redness crept into my cheeks as I blushed from head to toe.

"So it's like… a possession curse?" I asked in my naiveté.

"No. It's more of an amplification curse," he said, leaving me to fill in the blanks, his tone and demeanor saying much more than his words.

_God, he's so cryptic. What the hell is he saying? That I'm attracted to him? Damn me back to the Turn if I'd ever admit that to his face. Okay, breathe… get it together, Rachel…dodge and deflect._

"So whose curse was it?" I asked. "And how did they know I'd be wearing your coat?"


	5. Chapter 5

DISCLAIMER: THE WONDERFUL WORLD OF THE HOLLOWS AND ALL CHARACTERS THEREIN ARE OWNED BY THE LOVELY KIM HARRISON.

~ The Dressing Room ~

CHAPTER 5

Al shrugged. "You didn't have to try it on. All you have to do is touch the affected item in order for the curse to take hold. With this being our usual Saturday the odds of that were quite good."

"So it was someone who knew about our Saturdays, then," I concluded.

"Mmmm," Al shrugged again and nodded in agreement. Continuing his speculation, he said, "Ordinarily, my paranoid little demon self would have guessed it was Minias' work."

"Because he's still pissed at you for siccing Newt on him, huh?" I asked. "Hell hath no fury like… a demon scorned," I joked, taking another mouthful of coffee.

Al chuckled. "Indeed."

"But Minias is dead, right?" I asked, and sank back further in the chair, the leather squeaking a bit as my body moved to a more comfortable position. I had taken my boots off and bent my knee to bring one foot up to rest on the cushion of the chair.

"So it would seem, yes," he replied.

"What about Newt?" I speculated aloud. I bent forward to put the saucer on the table and held the black cup firmly between my hands and nestled back into the chair, wiggling my body to face Al.

"I don't know," he answered, watching me get comfortable in the chair. "It's definitely her style, yes. But she wouldn't have sent Gordian Nathaniel Pierce on an errand only to risk him interrupting the spell," he reasoned. But then something in his expression changed. Frowning, he turned his head and stared at the fire burning in the hearth as his eyes went distant. "Or maybe she would," he suggested, his voice soft and uneasy.

Leaning forward to try to make eye contact with him I asked, "Newt would intentionally destroy her own curse?"

His eyes met mine and without hesitation he answered, "If it served her purpose, then absolutely. Toying with me is one of her favorite pastimes."

I put my cup down on the table and leaned back into the chair again. Bringing both feet up onto the cushions, I rested my head against the back of the chair. I was feeling a bit tired and wondered if I should make us some more coffee. "So how would that work? Why would she call back the curse before it did what it was supposed to do?" I asked, running my hand along one of the seams of the chair.

Al sat straighter in his chair, cup and saucer still in hand, and his entire demeanor changed. Teacher Al had emerged to give me an education. "The textbook definition of an enrapture curse is a spell that compels two people… ," he hesitated and made a slight correction, "…well, two or _more_ people…" he grinned and continued, as I rolled my eyes, "… to consummate their relationship – the actual consummation being the end goal."

_Our relationship is 'student' and 'teacher', Al. I think that's about all the consummation I'm going to be doing._

Leave it to me to ask the obvious. "Consummate? As in 'sex'?"

With a twinkle in his eye and a smile still on his face he answered in the affirmative. "Yes, itchy witch. Sex. You know, speed up the timeline, as it were. Skip the romance. Skip the foreplay. Go directly to the good stuff."

Before I could object, he continued, "Theoretically, though, the curse could be used to simply bring a couple together. Sort of, moving things along without the fun of the whole… consummation thing…" _Wait, did he say "couple"? _

"But we're already together, Al. Every Saturday," I said, cocking my head to the side and wearing my best sarcastic smile. "How much more 'together' could Newt want us to be?"

Al groaned and leaned forward, placing his cup on the table. "Come now, Rachel. Don't play coy. It's unbecoming. You're not that obtuse."

My smile vanished as quickly as it had come. Looking at the fireplace, I waved my hand in frustration and muttered, "Yeah, yeah. The whole demon baby thing. Great."

The creak of stiff leather brought my attention back to Al and I watched as he crossed his left leg over his right and perched his elbow on the arm of his chair. Shifting his posture, he leaned in my direction to bring his body closer to mine, then settled his chin to rest atop a gloveless hand and his voice became as velvety as his frock. "Rachel, if that's what I wanted from you I would have had you a long time ago. If what we just experienced while under the influence of that curse is any indication, sex with you will be positively unbelievable," he declared, his accent precise and his eyes now devoid of anything but pure, raw lust.

_Will__ be? Ummm…_

"But relax," he said. "I'm not exactly 'father' material," Al added with a smirk.

I licked my lips, not knowing quite what to say. So I opted for fidgeting a bit and playing with my hair. I reached up to run my fingers through a strand before tucking it behind my ear.

Luckily, Al continued the conversation. "Truth be told, we are quite fortunate the little runt popped in when he did."

"And why's that?" I asked.

Al sat up in his chair and uncrossed his long legs to stretch them a bit. "It's dangerous enough for demons to have sex with each other under normal circumstances. One certainly would not want to attempt it while under the influence of a curse as potent as that one."

My eyes widened in shock, I blushed three shades of red. "Are you telling me, Al, that we would have died having sex?"

Al's devilish smile made me squirm in my seat and I lowered my head to stare at a spot on the floor.

"Don't get me wrong, Rachel," he said, raising a gloved hand to stroke the side of my face. His fingers danced along my jawline and came to rest under my chin as he raised my head level with his. "I can think of no better way to die than by being reduced to ash while between your thighs," he confessed, his red eyes never leaving mine and seeming to stare directly into my soul. "But I'm not ready to meet Death's embrace even for you, my beautiful, little witch."

I opened my mouth, not knowing what the hell to say in response. Al's eyes were focused on my lips. "It was delicious," he whispered, letting his hand fall from my chin.

"The near-death, curse-induced, pseudo-sex?" I asked in wonder.

Al chuckled. "That too, itchy witch. But I was referring to the coffee."

My mouth formed an 'o' before I was able to vocalize it. "Oh," I said. "Thank you," I smiled, redness creeping into my cheeks once again. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"Right!" he exclaimed, standing to look down at me seated in the other chair. He extended his hand to help me up. "Shall we do the dishes, then?" he asked as I took his hand and came to my feet.

We stood facing each other. Al is quite a tall demon and my face came up to about the level of his chest. It always felt good to stand this close to him. The power rolling off him was palpable and truth be told it felt really good. Distracting. But good. I blinked a few times to clear my head and then looked up at him. Taking a deep breath I said, "Yeah, let's do that."

With a nod, Al instructed, "Gather the dishes and I'll jump you to the kitchen. I'm just going to put another log or two on the fire."

* * *

Without another thought I found myself in Al's kitchen. It was a magnificent space - huge and modern, with tons of cabinets and copper racks of spelling and cooking equipment suspended above almost every inch of counter space. There were several glowing orbs placed strategically throughout the room, providing enough light for me to find the sink. I found a few candle holders in one of the cabinets above the sink and opened a draw below where Al kept his non-ritual candles. Setting the candles in the holders, I thought,_ "consimilus califacio_," and the wicks sprung to life with flame. I took a moment to enjoy the warm glow of the flickering candlelight. I felt my body and soul relax and I reached to turn on the faucet and fill the sink with warm water, squirting a little soap into the mix from the small bottle Al kept alongside the sink.

I placed the coffee cups and saucers in the sink and warm water playfully splashed off the surfaces of the porcelain. The coffee press was still on the counter. I carefully removed the lid and tapped the grounds into a bowl Al had set aside for Treble, using the chopstick to coax out the grains that were determined to stick to the bottom of the press - the last remaining holdouts in a hopeless battle with the pointy implement. Satisfied I had reserved everything I could for Al's gargoyle, I submerged the carafe into the sudsy water that now filled up half the sink.

When I turned off the water I was hit with a deafening silence. _Where was Al? How the hell long did it take to throw a few logs on the fire? _And then I remembered I had brought Ivy's portable music player with me, tucked into the front pocket of my jeans. I looked around and found a towel to dry my hands and then reached into my pocket to pull out the player and earphones. I tossed my head back to get my hair out of my face and gently tapped the earbuds into my ears before hitting the 'play' button.

I wasn't surprised to hear Takata's voice. Ivy and I both loved his music, even before we learned he was my biological father. The song that was playing had a heavy, sensual bass and lyrics that always brought me to my knees with their beautiful simplicity.

I must have been singing along without realizing it because I suddenly heard Al's voice call my name. "Rachel?" _Oh, crap… _

I reached up to pry the buds out of my ears.

Al's expression was almost soft and tender. "Rachel, you have a beautiful voice," he said with an affection I rarely heard him from him. _Ohhh._

Feeling self-conscious, I gave a short, nervous laugh and said, "Woops. Sorry. It's Ivy's," I said, digging the player out of my pocket and hitting the 'stop' button so I could pay attention to what Al was saying. I added, "It was just a bit too quite in here."

With a spring in his step, Al glided over to me and proclaimed, "Oooooo! Pretty!" His hand reached out to grab the music player from me. "Let's see what else she has loaded onto that thing. That little vamp has fabulous taste in music. You could learn a thing or two from her, Rachel," he said, completely enthralled with scrolling through Ivy's playlist.

I turned back to the sink to finish the dishes before the water got cold. "Are you gonna help me dry?" I asked.

Al looked at me wearing a grin from ear to ear. "I am! Give me your hands, Rachel."

With a bit of caution, I slowly held them out to him and watched in amusement as he used the soft dishcloth to dry my dripping, soapy hands.

"Al…?"

"Mmmm… perfect," he mused, throwing the towel to the side and looking up at me after making his musical selection. "I just _love_ Julie London. Can you rumba, Rachel? Let's dance!" he beamed.

He shoved one earbud into my ear, put the other in his, and hit the button to start the music, shoving Ivy's player into the breast pocket of his coat.

The music began and I felt myself panic. _Yep, it's a rumba, alright. Shit… I hope I remember the box step…_

Al stood with an impatient look on his face, his left arm bent slightly and his hand ready to fold itself into mine. His right arm was outstretched, ready to come to rest atop my left shoulder to hold a proper dance frame.

The music was quickly nearing the end of the introductory measures and without a thought I raised my arms and brought my frame up to meet Al's. Tucking my damp hand into his, I rested my other hand on his shoulder and we started to move.

* * *

_Hmmm… so I wasn't quite happy with the first draft of this chapter. I revised the beginning and hopefully tightened up some of the dialogue to get Al back into character.. or more into character.. or… something. I also added the scene at the end in the kitchen and now hopefully have these two back on track to head to the… ahem.. bedroom, perhaps? 0:-) _


	6. Chapter 6

DISCLAIMER: THE WONDERFUL WORLD OF THE HOLLOWS AND ALL CHARACTERS THEREIN ARE OWNED BY THE LOVELY KIM HARRISON.

~ The Dressing Room ~

CHAPTER 6

I was trembling inside. Nervousness clawed at the surface of my skin making me tingle as if I'd been pixed by a thousand pixies. I'd say I'm an 'okay' dancer - not the greatest dancer on a good day, but after everything that had already happened today I was really feeling off my game. I thought about Kisten for a brief moment and was grateful he had taught me a few basic dances. Since Al and I were connected at the ears he couldn't really spin me so I should be able to keep up with him, more or less. Hopefully.

Thankfully, I _did_ remember the box step and Al (surprise, surprise - being the domineering demon that he is) was very good at leading.

"Relax," Al intoned, in a hopeless attempt to quell my nerves. "Listen to the music and let your body take over. I'll move you where you need to be."

_Slow… quick, quick, slow…. quick, quick, slow… Just breathe. I got this. Why the hell am I so nervous in his arms?_

I looked down at my feet, afraid I was going to step on his or stumble into something.

"Look at me, Rachel," Al instructed. "Don't look down," he admonished, shaking his head like I was a bad puppy that had peed on the floor.

I looked into his eyes and focused on the feel of his body next to mine, his strong arms and hands pushing me and pulling me to the beat of the music. When I closed my eyes and focused on the music I felt my entire body relax into his. I became completely pliant in Al's strong, capable hands. Still holding a solid dance frame, my hips fell into the natural rhythm of the Latin dance, moving suggestively from side to side with each step.

"Mmmm… better," Al remarked. "But you're still shaking like a leaf, Rachel. Do you not trust me?" he asked, a tinge of disappointment in his voice.

"I trust you. It's just that dancing is so…" my voice trailed off, searching for the right word to complete my thought.

"Intimate?" he suggested.

"Intimate," I nodded in agreement. I felt my pulse quicken at the thought of our bodies so close together, moving rhythmically as one.

"Mmm.. that it is," he said. "I've never had the pleasure of dancing with such a tall woman before. This is most enjoyable," he remarked, pushing me away for a few steps before pulling me back towards him and propelling me into a cross-body lead, a move I not only recognized but was quite competent in executing. And I earned a surprised smile from Al. Go me.

Al continued, "Ceri was a wonderful dancer, but she was quite petite. Not at all a problem when we were horizontal, mind you, but it would have been nice if she were a bit taller for dancing."

"Wow.. thanks for that," I said, trying to shake away the image of Ceri and Al doing the nasty.

"Just making conversation, dove," he smiled, feigning innocence. He was clearly enjoying his success at having made me even more uncomfortable.

"Well if we're making conversation, what are you going to do about Newt?" I asked, steering the conversation away from the creepy and back towards the normal. Or, _more_ normal, at least. I mean, now 'normal' is it having to worry about a psychotic, bald, female demon curse you into sleeping with your demon mentor?

"Nothing," he answered with a shrug.

"Nothing?" I asked, baffled at how he could just let it go without at least confronting her.

As if reading my thoughts he said, "Confronting her isn't going to help me and it certainly isn't going to help you. She'll blame me and try to take you, just like she tried to do before."

"Yeah, alright," I admitted. The thought of being in Newt's custody made me shudder. "So what should we do?"

Al frowned and replied, "We need to be much more vigilant than we have been. We'll work on putting a few more wards on the house. Spell detection wards and whatnot. You can help me. It'll be a good learning experience."

The music stopped and Al reached into the pocket of his coat to pull out Ivy's music player. I reached up to take the earbud out of my ear and Al grabbed my hand. He placed his finger on mine and gently pressed the tiny earphone back into place.

"Let's have one more, mmm?" he said, rather than asked.

He must have seen the next song the first time he scrolled through Ivy's playlist because it took him less than five seconds to find the selection he was looking for. His hands hovered over the button as he slowly lifted his gaze to meet mine. He wore an unreadable expression and I would have given quite a lot to know what his little demon mind was thinking. Without looking down, he hit the 'play' button and my pulse ratcheted up a few notches as I recognized the piece from the opening bars of music.

"Besame mucho," I whispered, my heart practically leaping out of my chest.

Al gave me a sassy grin as he took me into his arms. I fell into step alongside him and closed my eyes as Diana Krall's smoky, sensual voice started its sweet seduction of my senses.

I was breathing the music this time, every inhalation mixing the vibration of the song with the energy of my aura. I tilted my head to the side and felt Ms. Krall's sumptuous voice caressing its way down my body. Goosebumps rose to the surface of my skin. When I opened my eyes a few measures later, I looked up to see Al staring at me in wonder. He watched me for a few steps before he closed his eyes. He seemed to be transported elsewhere as he moved us to the beat of the music.

Al wasn't one for small talk and we never really had heart-to-heart discussions about anything, but there were those few rare occasions in our time together when I was able to catch a glimpse of his softer side. He kept it hidden so well, but it was definitely there. And music was one of the tools that brought that kinder, gentler demon to the surface. Music seemed to touch a part of Al that he'd kept hidden for so long beneath a cold, hard, overbearing façade.

Al opened his eyes again, perhaps feeling the weight of my stare. "You know, this isn't the first time we've danced, you and I."

"No, it isn't, is it?" I agreed, thinking back to the time we danced at the rehearsal dinner for Trent's would-be wedding. Though Al was not really Al at the time…

"So no need to be nervous," he said, as he collapsed his frame and pulled me into him, his arm now curved possessively around my waist and my body completely pressed against his. My left arm arched around his broad shoulders and my hand reached up to touch the back of his neck. Al held my other hand to his chest. I could feel the steady beat of his heart through the fabric of his shirt.

My mind was flying in a thousand different directions as logic fought against emotion. My hand stroked the base of Al's neck and he let out a groan of satisfaction as my fingers gently entwined themselves in his soft hair. Too afraid to look up at him, I kept my eyes focused on Al's chest. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply as I leaned into him, bringing my head to rest on his shoulder. The only thing I could smell now was Al. The only thing I could hear was the beating of his heart in my left ear and the hypnotic thrum of jazz in my right. And the only thing I could feel was everything.

I chuckled when something soft and velvety fanned my ear. "Stop," I laughed. "That tickles."

After realizing that both of Al's hands were otherwise occupied, I turned my head to try to get a glimpse of what was playing with my ear. On my shoulder sat a magnificent butterfly with striking, iridescent blue wings that shimmered in the soft glow of light produced by the orbs overhead.

I lifted my head from Al's chest and looked up to see half a dozen of the beautiful creatures encircling us as we stood in the center of the kitchen.

"Rachel," Al said, bringing a hand up to brush the hair away from my face. "You've stopped moving."

I looked at him and smiled. "I don't remember the steps," I replied, as a tear slipped past my hardened defenses to trace a delicate path of wetness down my cheek.

He threaded his fingers through my hair and cupped the back of my head. His other arm remained firm around my waist, keeping my body pressed against his.

"Then I'll show you," he replied.

He bent down and brushed his soft lips against mine, teasing me just a little before pressing them into an impassioned kiss. I could have easily resisted my impatient, overbearing, cantankerous demon. But I had no defenses for the Al whose kiss was as gentle as a butterfly and as intoxicating as the finest Chablis.

We stood there in the wide expanse of his kitchen, the soft light dappled blue as the candlelight caught the occasional reflection off butterfly wings - the delicate creatures continuing the dance we had abandoned.

We drank of each other as if we had all the time in the ever-after. And you know what? Maybe we did.

~~~_Finire~~~_


End file.
